


The First Four Times Spock Expected a Child and the Fifth Time He Didn't

by lalazee



Series: Kelvin!Verse [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, No M-Preg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Babies always come as a surprise, even to the logical Spock. But the last time is a real whopper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Four Times Spock Expected a Child and the Fifth Time He Didn't

FIRST YEAR OF THE FIVE-YEAR MISSION

  
Jim stepped off the transporter pad, a small bundle in his arms.  
  
Spock immediately sensed the wave of nerves, pride, and joy that swam through Jim’s consciousness.   
  
Floating gently across the opalescent thread that bonded them, Spock nestled within the doubt in Jim’s mind; he effectively left no room for hesitancy.  
  
Spock had once heard a person’s smile compared with the blinding light of the sun. He looked at Jim, and only in this moment could the Vulcan appreciate the sentiment.  
  
The room was hushed, thick with expectant silence. Spock had operated he transporter on his own; the two of them were alone.  
  
No, the _three_ of them were together.  
  
Jim approached Spock slowly carefully. His eyes were bright, and wide with wonder as he met Spock’s gaze.  
  
“This is Talia.”  
  
Spock peered down at the bundle Jim held, their foreheads brushing intimately with the gesture.   
  
The emerald green baby slept soundly, the halo of fiery curls framing her chubby cheeks. Despite her three months of age, she appeared impossibly petite to Spock.  
  
“She looks like Galia.”  
  
Jim grinned down at his daughter. “Kind of.”  
  
As if on cue, Talia opened her eyes.  
  
Spock found himself looking into the electric blue eyes of James Kirk. His heart tripped, then it fell.   
  
“I find her features to be striking.”   
  
“Of course. She’s _my_ kid.”  
  
This was true. The news of Gaila’s pregnancy had come to Jim’s knowledge shortly after he had taken command of the  _U.S.S Enterprise_. Gaila had known from the start that she had not been ready for a child, or a family of her own.  
  
The responsibility had fallen to Jim, and the Captain had seemed happy to oblige. Nervous, but happy.  
  
In those nine months of waiting, Spock had managed to make his feelings for Jim known. Their bonding ceremony had been private and meaningful; both men looked forward to this child.   
  
Now Talia Kirk was here, staring straight at Spock. She smiled. Spock’s eyes widened.  
  
He finally understood one thing. His mother had loved him, so did his father.   
  
Because Spock felt the same unyielding emotion for his daughter.

  
SECOND YEAR OF THE FIVE-YEAR MISSION   


  
“He is called Syvek.” Spock announced, the moment he stepped off the transporter. A one-year old Vulcan boy clung desperately to Spock, his face hidden in the curve of Spock's neck.  
  
Jim frowned and approached carefully. Spock could sense his bondmate’s understanding of the delicate situation at hand.   
  
Spock’s half-brother Sybok had been arrested by the Federation a mere twenty-six hours ago. Sybok was a tumultuous being; he enjoyed causing a commotion, upsetting relative peace and order. This time, he had gone too far. Now, he paid the price.  
  
Sybok had lived on Nimbus III for five years now. He had been banished from Vulcan long before the planet’s destruction, and even longer before Spock’s birth.   
  
Spock’s half-brother was the offspring of Sarek and a Vulcan princess, who had died giving birth. Sybok had discarded the logic of Surak by age fifteen and had embraced the world of emotion. By age sixteen, the Vulcan had been banished. Spock’s father had found a new wife, just one year later, in Amanda.  
  
The Vulcan half-siblings did not keep in touch, but for the single message Spock had received one year ago. The announcement of Syvek’s birth did not surprise Spock. He was not particularly interested at all, until he realised Sybok had asked him to be the guardian of the child. If anything were to happen to Sybok, Syvek would be left in his uncle’s charge.   
  
Spock could not say no. Jim was, of course, supportive.  
  
Jim walked around Spoc, and stood behind him. The Vulcan did not look over his shoulder, but he was sure Jim was attempting to look at the small child’s face. Jim’s voice was friendly, and coaxing.  
  
“Syvek. Hey. That’s a pretty bad-ass name. If you’re anything like your uncle, here, you’ll definitely live up to a name like that.”  
  
From the corner of his eye, Spock noted Syvek peer cautiously over his shoulder.  
  
Spock’s sharp hearing caught the slight hitch in Jim’s breath. He experienced a curious sense of wonder emanating from his captain.  
  
“ _Jesus_ , Spock.” Jim approached Spock’s back; a warm hand rested upon on his shoulder. Spock did not turn. He heard the words Jim would say, before they were spoken. “He looks  _exactly_  like you.”  
  
Spock considered futilely arguing that Vulcans, as a race, tend to have similar features.  
  
Instead, he replied softly. “I know.”  
  


THIRD YEAR OF THE FIVE-YEAR MISSION

  
“Spock, I’m  _so_  sorry.” Jim looked at Spock with pleading eyes, his fingers wrapped tightly around Spock’s forearms. Spock could feel the sorrow and regret cascading through Jim’s heart and into his.  
  
As painful as it had been to be apart for ten months, the black sludge of emotion that Jim was giving off was enough make Spock ill. He fervently wished there was a way to comfort the man, but he knew at this moment, it would be impossible.  
  
He and Jim had been separated for ten months. Jim, stranded on a primitive planet, had lost all of his memories. The inhabitants had claimed him a God from the stars, and had married him off to their most beautiful woman, Miramanee.  
  
Spock had been across space, thousands of light-years away. He had chased an asteroid down, and had to destroy it at its zenith before it hurtled straight into the planet Jim had been living on. The travel time alone had been near a year.   
  
Ten months apart from Jim. Spock had hardly slept, hardly eaten. His bond had ached like phantom limb. His heart had shrivelled, even as he knew he had two children to care for.   
  
Talia had taken her father’s absence horribly. Syvek had taken it even worse. At two years old, he was already proving to be a vibrantly emotional being. Talia had been stoic about the entire trauma, retreating into herself, and becoming difficult to handle.  
  
Upon beaming down to the planet’s surface, Spock felt two things. One, Jim was alive. That knowledge filled him relief. Had he not had such control, he would have cried with relief.   
  
Two, someone was sharing Jim’s  _katra_. His soul. Not in the way that a bondmate does, but in the way that a child carries a piece of their mother or father with them forever. Their soul’s imprint, basically. Talia had a similar feel about her.   
  
Spock could only make the logical assumption that Jim had a child on this planet. As much as it had destroyed what ounce of hope he’d reserved for their relationship, he had to admit this to himself.  
  
Of course, at that time, he hadn’t realised the dire circumstances Jim had been placed in.  
  
When the inhabitants realised he was not a God, they were furious with Jim. They stoned both him and Miramanee. Jim’s wife died from the injuries she had sustained.  
  
Jim sat beside Miramanee’s crumpled, bloody body. Tears stained his tan cheeks, as his memories flooded back to him. He remained clinging to Spock, begging for forgiveness, for which Spock simply felt there was no need.   
  
“Jim, I see no reason to apologise.” Spock murmured quietly. He pushed aside his inhibitions, and swept up Jim in his arms like a small child. “You were not at fault. But we must leave now. The natives are becoming increasingly violent.”  
  
Jim jerked in his arms. “Annie.” His voice was so choked with tears that Spock could hardly make out the name.  
  
“Who is Annie?” There was a moment of silence. Spock felt Jim’s hesitancy. The Vulcan inwardly flinched at the next wave of pain that drowned them. Spock spoke up once more. “She is your daughter?”  
  
Jim merely nodded against Spock’s chest.   
  
“We will retrieve her.”  
  
Jim warily led the way to his wigwam, peered through the door of the darkened home. Spock waited outside, while Jim stepped in. He appeared moments later, with the child wrapped in a lush, fur blanket.  
  
“Anang.” Jim whispered; his breath hitched, his chest heaved. He held out the baby to Spock, who took her carefully. Jim continued on. “Her name means ‘the stars’.” His smile was broken. “Because, I always looked to them - _for you_. I looked for you, even when I didn’t know who I was looking for.”  
  
“You have me, Jim.” Spock looked down at Jim’s daughter; thick brown hair, curious hazel-green eyes. “And you have the stars. You will always have the both of us.”

  
FOURTH YEAR OF THE FIVE-YEAR MISSION   


  
Guilt was an emotion to which Spock had grown accustomed. After the destruction of his planet, he had spent month upon month buried in self-pity and shame. He had realised what an inefficient use of time that was, but the waves of torment had continued to crash over him.  
  
Four years later, and Spock experienced similar pangs of that constricting emotion, as he waited in the transporter room with Jim. There had been nine months to prepare for this.  
  
Spock took a quiet, centring breath. It seemed that no amount of meditation could truly calm him. Especially not with a pair of three year-olds and a one year old for which to care.   
  
Jim made a point of keeping the children in his care - or that of a fellow, trusted crew-member - so that Spock could meditate. But, as a father, worries were difficult to completely erase from his mind.   
  
One thing never failed to relieve Spock, though. Jim.  
  
“Spock, relax.”  
  
“I am at ease.”  
  
Jim laughed. He turned to face Spock, and placed his hands upon Spock’s cheeks. Jim’s eyes held Spock’s without a single barrier between them. “I’m not upset. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.”  
  
“I am aware of your feelings, Jim, but -”  
  
“’But’, nothing!” Jim sighed and did not remove his hands from Spock’s face. “So you slept with the Romulan Commander. If you hadn’t, she would have ordered the destruction of the  _Enterprise_.” Jim raised his brows, a look that he’d learned from Spock. “You had meaningless sex,  _that I practically endorsed_ , and saved over four-hundred of your crewmen. You couldn’t have done anything more. We have you to thank for our lives.”  
  
Spock was silent. He did not want to think back to that time. As a result of his actions, a child had been brought into the world. A child born in a prison.   
  
He had promised himself he would do right by her.  _Her_. His daughter.  
  
Jim placed a firm kiss upon Spock’s lips, and he could feel Jim hurling all of his positive energy towards Spock. He found he was appreciative for the clumsy motion.   
  
The quiet hum of the transporter alerted them to the arrival of a prison guard. He wordlessly handed the small bundle to Spock, and a PADD to Jim. Any short conversation that passed between his Captain and the guard went beyond Spock’s senses.   
  
He stared down at the tiny face before him. Spock recalled how he felt the first time he’d held Talia in his arms. This felt the very same; the only difference was, the smile Jim had once carried was now mirrored in Spock’s gaze.  
  
Jim was standing before him once more. He reached out and pulled the blanket back from her face. “Shit, how did we get so lucky?  _Again_?”  
  
The baby looked from one looming face together with dark eyes. She was bald, but for the inky tufts on the crown of her head. Her ears and eyebrows were unmistakably Vulcan, though her skin was dark, and tan as a Romulan complexion. Her mouth was curved into a small heart – Spock’s mouth.   
  
“What’re you going to call her?”  
  
Spock’s lips curved briefly. “Amanda.”

  
FINAL YEAR OF THE FIVE-YEAR MISSION   


  
“I am sure you have deduced that we have devised a machine, which, essentially,  _mates for us_.”  
  
Jim slammed his fists futilely against the tube that he and Spock were currently trapped in.  
  
“What kind of women are you?” He asked incredulously. “You don’t want to have sex?  _Who_ makes a machine to have sex for them? You might as well be dead!”  
  
Spock repressed the very human urge to roll his eyes. Jim could still be rather melodramatic. The Vulcan quietly inspected every inch of the tube, looking for any way they could escape from their confines. The situation was looking dire.  
  
The fuchsia humanoid aimed a haughty glance towards Jim. “We are a cerebral species, Captain Kirk. There is no logical purpose for the disgusting act of physical copulation, if a cleaner, more precise method can be created. We have done just that.”  
  
“Well, what the hell do you want with _us_?”  
  
“We desire your DNA, of course.” The woman looked at Jim, as if he were truly incompetent.  
  
“How?”  
  
She gestured towards the tube they were in. “We will extract both of your DNA, then process it with ours at a later time. You two are fine examples of masculinity. You will do well by us. It is a shame you will die from the process.”  
  
“Like hell we are! Our crew will be looking for us, lady. We’re gonna be found any minute now.”  
  
Spock did not ask how Jim was so sure. He was fairly certain his captain was simply speaking to waste time.  
  
A switch was pressed. The tube lit with what looked like electrical currents – and felt like them. The pain was excruciating. It felt like each, individual cell in his body was being popped.   
  
Spock bit down on a cry, his hand instinctively reaching out for Jim’s. Their fingers interlaced in a crushing grip. Jim attempted a look of comfort, but his face had gone red, and sweat trailed down from his hairline, into his eyes.   
  
The Vulcan deeply lamented his inability to speak at this moment. But through the shivering connection that latched his soul to Jim’s, he was positive Jim was aware of the love he felt for his captain. Spock could feel the very same wave of undying affection, before darkness encompassed them both.  
  
Spock awoke to the familiar sounds of the sickbay. He sat up sharply, his head swimming. Before his eyes had even opened, his mind reach out for Jim. He felt the captain close; and upon looking to his right, noted the man asleep in the gurney beside him.   
  
“Jim.”  
  
His bondmate grunted, and the heavy cloak of apprehension slipped from his shoulders.  
  
“So, our sleeping beauties decide to grace us with their presence.” The southern drawl was unmistakable, as Doctor McCoy approached them.  
  
Jim let out a rough cough and finally opened his eyes. Spock watched him blink up at the ceiling once, then heft himself up, upon his elbows. He cricked his head towards Spock. The weary smile on Jim’s face allowed Spock room to breathe.   
  
“Hi, Spock. You’re lookin’ good.”  
  
“You also look well, under the circumstances.”  
  
“Hate to break up the reunion, but I have some news for ya, both.” Doctor McCoy informed them.  
  
Jim shot up from the bed, and Spock mirrored the action. He was the first to speak. “The children -”  
  
“Are fine.” The doctor cut in. There was a peculiar edge to his voice, which Spock could only equate with evasiveness. He rarely found Doctor McCoy to be evasive.  
  
“Doctor, if you insist on being coy, I shall be forced to find a member of this crew, with a higher sense of duty than yourself, who will inform me of -”  
  
The doctor snarled. “Oh,  _can it_ , Spock. Christ almighty – can’t let a man take his time with nothin’, can you?” He paused, indicated with a wave of his hand that Spock and the Captain should follow.  
  
Jim and Spock exchanged looks as they were led to Doctor McCoy’s office. He explained as they walked.  
  
“When we arrived, you two were on the floor of that God-awful tube. Nearly dead. We took care of that alien bitch and switched off the machine. We hauled ya'll outta there in two shakes.”  
  
They entered the office, and beside Doctor McCoy’s desk was a bassinet. Spock narrowed his eyes. He could not begin to extrapolate a reason for the doctor’s bizarre report.   
  
“We were about to leave, when I was inspecting their lab materials and I saw this... this,  _pod_. There was something – _someone_ , in it.”  
  
Jim frowned. “Freaky alien clone thing?”  
  
“Not exactly, Jim. You and Spock...” Doctor McCoy sighed, ran a hand through his hair, as he further attempted to explain himself. “Both of your DNA  _did_  get extracted; only we must have stopped the machine at some integral part of the process, and...” The doctor shrugged. “The job was finished. Your DNA was melded _together_ , instead of with a woman’s.”  
  
Both Jim and Spock spoke at the same time. “ _What_?”  
  
“Not ‘what’. ‘ _Who_ _m_ ’.”  
  


FINAL YEAR OF THE  _SECOND_  FIVE-YEAR MISSION

  
“ _Daddy_ DadDad!”  
  
Spock opened his eyes. There was a familiar weight on his stomach, and it was not that of his bondmate; Jim was curled contentedly against Spock’s side, their legs tangled, his arm slung across Spock’s chest. The Vulcan’s hand automatically went to Jim’s hair and rested there.  
  
Now, to deal with his visitor.  
  
“Kelvin. Do you require assistance?”  
  
Wide, black eyes stared back at him with intensity. The tiny voice came out as a loud whisper. “I am  _naked!_ ”  
  
Spock’s brows rose slowly. He looked down.  
  
“Your observation is astute, as always. Does your current state of undress serve a purpose?”  
  
Kelvin adjusted himself atop the covers; he laid his stomach along the length of Spock’s torso. Propping his elbows up, he rested his chin on his fists. His sandy, slashing brows rose, as he made his declaration.  
  
“I’ve lost  _all_  of my clothes.”  
  
Spock coughed lightly; it would not be prudent to laugh at his son.   
  
“With each passing day, you increasingly resemble your father.” Kelvin may have had Vulcan ears and eyebrows, but he had Jim’s habit of losing clothes. “May I make an inquiry as to the location of your garments?”  
  
“ _Space_.”  
  
Spock paused. He appraised Kelvin, carefully. In five years, the young boy had not lied once. It was unlikely he would start at this very moment.  
  
“ _All_  of your garments?”  
  
Kelvin nodded emphatically. His lips, which were undeniably Jim’s, were painted in a sober line.   
  
Spock flicked a glance to the top of Jim’s head; the man was sleeping as soundly as ever. His captain had been kept on the bridge for an extended amount of time the night before, and had stumbled into bed three point four hours ago. He was, as humans said, ‘dead to the world’.   
  
His attention returned to the boy fidgeting atop the blankets. “How did all of your clothing end up in space?”  
  
“I put them through the  _transporter._  They went to  _space_.”   
  
Spock flicked a brow. “You have the knowledge to operate a transporter?”   
  
Kelvin scrunched his up-turned nose. He was blatantly insulted by this line of questioning. “ _Obviously_. It was easy. I watch Pavel do it all the time.”  
  
“Fascinating.” Spock made a mental note to increase the security near the transporter, even when it was not in use. He didn’t want his son flying through space on anything but the  _Enterprise_.   
  
Apparently Kelvin was prepared to share his reasoning at this time. He bubbled with excitement, his face as animated as Jim’s. Spock felt an almost painful swell of love bloom in his chest, as he patiently listened to his son speak.   
  
“I heard that some aliens don’t wear clothes, so I’m gonna be like that. I don’t like clothes.”  
  
Spock ran his free hand over the top of Kelvin’s wild mass of white-blonde hair. The expression of affection no longer cost him. This was Spock’s offspring; it would have been illogical to withhold anything from him. “Your choice is unfortunate.”  
  
“ _Why_?” Kelvin's high, incredulous tone jerked Jim from his repose. Spock felt the man wake before Jim truly had. Their bond was strongly enforced; they may as well have been one person. Spock slid the pad of his thumb in small, soothing circles at the back of Jim’s neck.   
  
His voice remained level and reasonable.   
  
“Public nudity is a breach of Starfleet regulation, unfortunately.” Spock’s tone was grave. “A violator of regulations will be taken into legal custody, and fined for their indiscretion.”   
  
There were no official consequences for a five-year old, but Kelvin did not need the details.  
  
Kelvin’s sent his father a narrow look. “Bullshit.”  
  
Spock’s moment of mute horror was neatly blanketed, by the shift at his side. Jim nuzzled his forehead beneath Spock’s chin, his dishevelled hair tickling Spock’s lips. Jim’s voice was thick with sleep.  
  
“Where the hell you learn that kinda talk?”  
  
Spock interrupted before their son could devise a clever retort. “I trust your query is rhetorical.”  
  
Jim canted his chin and looked up at his bondmate. He lazily smiled. As their gazes locked, Spock’s heart flipped languidly in his chest. The vivid blue of Jim’s eyes had never failed to melt his coherent thoughts.  
  
He missed Jim’s reply. Kelvin’s authoritative voice snapped him from his reverie.  
  
“You wouldn’t get me kicked off the  _Enterprise_ , would you, Captain?” From the moment Kelvin had learned to speak, he had recognised the entire crew using Jim’s official title. Much to Jim’s apparent dismay in the early years, the name stuck.  
  
“ _Nah_.” Jim shifted, brought his muscular arm out to wrap playfully around Kelvin’s neck. He pulled Kelvin close, ignoring his half-hearted grunts of displeasure, interspersed with giggles. “But if you wanna be like me when you grow up, you’re gonna have to put on some clothes.”   
  
Kelvin wrenched out of Jim’s hold and scowled. “ _You’re_  not wearing clothes.”  
  
Jim and Spock exchanged looks. Jim shrugged. “That’s because I’m with the love of my life. When you find the love of your life, you can be naked with them as much as you like.”  
  
Spock felt his cheeks heat uncomfortably. He sent Jim an admonishing look.  
  
It was too late, though. The damage was already done.   
  
“Well,  _I’m_ in love with Nurse Chapel.” Kelvin exclaimed, as he jumped off the bed and ran for the sliding door. “We’re gonna be naked together!”   
  
He was out in the corridor, completely nude, before either father could react.   
  
“Should we warn Bones that a visitor’s on his way?”  
  
Spock was silent for a moment, before he agilely turned and positioned himself atop Jim. Warmth snaked its way down the length of his body; sleepy nerves awakened, fanned out. 

  
“Kelvin is due for a medical exam. Now is a good time.”  
  
Jim snorted a soft laugh, as his thigh wedged between Spock’s legs. His hands idly explored the span of Spock’s back.   
  
Jim’s voice in his ear was the most beautiful thing Spock had ever heard. “Have I mentioned how much I love the way you think?”  
  
“I am not averse to hearing it once more.”


End file.
